


Trouble

by thedevilchicken



Category: Addicted to You - Avicii (Music Video)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, First Love, First Meetings, Partners in Crime, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 15:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Everyone said Evy had a reputation. Ola couldn't help but want to find out why.





	Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphire2309](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/gifts).



Everyone warned her about Evy, from the moment she started coming to the bar. 

They weren't really specific about why, but there were always warnings when she came around. A bad influence, they said. The wrong sort. Not quite right. Not a _good girl_ , not like Ola was, so she should just take their advice and keep her distance. They wouldn't want her to get tarred with the same brush, whatever brush that was. They wouldn't want her to get some kind of rotten reputation, too. 

On nights when her fingers brushed the back of Evy's hand as she reached across the table for her empty glass, she could almost feel their eyes on her from all around the room. She could almost hear them telling her _don't trust her, Ola, she'll just drag you on down with her_. Then Evy smiled at her, all pearly whites and siren-red lipstick, and she'd have stomped all over her own good reputation just to make her keep on smiling. 

"Where are you from?" she asked, one night, when they were sitting in the cold on the back step of the bar. Everyone had left already, all except the two of them. Evy had stayed behind to wait for her; she'd said she'd give her a ride home, save her from the shitty winter weather, and Ola had said yes though Mr. Brewster who owned the bar had frowned like she'd just denied Jesus. 

"Someplace a lot like this," Evy replied. "The people were the same. I don't know why I thought it'd be different." 

She smiled wryly and offered a drag of her cigarette and so Ola, cautiously, really cautiously, reached out and took it from her. It wasn't her first time smoking - she'd tried a few times after school, under the bleachers by the football field where the kids she'd been meant to stay away from were, so while maybe she didn't look as cool as Evy did, at least she didn't splutter. Evy's bright lipstick stained the filter and she put it to her mouth in the bar's flicking stoop light like a secondhand kiss; when she handed it back, and Evy raised it up as she looked at her, it was like a kiss returned. 

"I should be getting home," Ola said. "My parents don't like me staying out so late." And from all the not-quite-stories she'd heard from the guys at the bar, who she sometimes thought would've liked her to not be such a _good girl_ , she expected some kind of biting thing about the poor little country girl following the rules, and mom and dad and curfews. Evy just nodded stood and offered her her hand and helped her up instead, no commentary. Her hand felt warm. So did Ola's cheeks.

Evy drove her home with the radio on so they wouldn't have to make much small talk, and she hummed the whole way though she couldn't quite carry a tune. Ola turned to the fogged-up window to hide her smile. Maybe her humming wasn't on key, but it turned out she liked the way it sounded anyhow. 

She drove her home the next night, too, when her shift was over and the bar was locked up for the night. Ola's feet hurt and her head ached and when Evy offered up her cigarette, she took it and she smiled as they headed to the car. She breathed out into the freezing air, half as much her own breath as it was smoke. Her own lipstick had rubbed off a little, too, when she handed it back.

"You know, you don't have to do this," she said, when she'd slid into the passenger seat. "I can walk. It's not so far."

"Sure," Evy replied. "Just a mile and a half in the dark with those heels and a flashlight as old as you are. I guess I could live with it if you turned your ankle and crawled the whole way in the snow." She flashed her a grin as she turned the key in the ignition. "But I guess maybe I want to." Ola smiled even as she blushed.

She drove her home again the next night, and the next, and the one after that. But she was always real careful to stop down the street, so no one would see who was driving when Ola got out of the car. 

"You could just drop me at my door," she suggested, and Evy smiled at her, fondly, like she was fourteen and not twenty, like she didn't know a thing. 

"Sure, and what would your parents say about that?" Evy asked. "Don't you know I'm a bad girl?"

Ola rested her head back against the seat and looked at her in the dim orange glow of the streetlights outside. It made her blond hair kind of glow and her face look soft and warm, like maybe she'd have felt like summer if she'd just reached out and touched. She wanted to, though she wasn't sure why.

"You don't _look_ bad," Ola said. " _Are_ you bad?"

Evy slid one hand to Ola's hose-covered knee, exposed by the hem of her skirt. She bit her lip as Evy looked at her, scooting just a little closer. Her hand wasn't summer-warm, not really, not with how it was so cold in the front of the car they could see their breath on the air, but when she shivered it wasn't from the cold. It was from her fingertips and her painted nails stroking there.

"I'm _real_ bad," Evy said, her voice all low and dark and maybe teasing, except Ola really couldn't tell. "Don't tell me no one's warned you." She slid her hand a little higher, up under Ola's skirt, over her thick winter hose. She squeezed. "You should run along now, before you find out why." 

She did, she ran along like the good girl they all said she was, but she really didn't want to. And as she sat in her room, in the dark, she guessed at least she knew why all the guys at the bar had warned her; it was less for their own good and more for theirs. 

The next night, when Evy slid her hand up underneath her skirt, she was wearing stockings instead of hose. Evy's fingers touched bare skin and her neat brows rose a little in the soft orange light. Ola's cheeks burned, but she didn't look away. She just put her hand over Evy's and gave it a slow squeeze. 

"I don't work tomorrow," she said, as Evy's fingertips slipped higher, as they traced the crease at the top of her thigh. Her heart beat faster. Evy's painted lips looked almost bruised in the streetlight, but all she wanted to do was kiss them even so. 

"Then I guess you won't need a ride home." 

"I guess I won't." Ola paused, as Evy's fingers slipped in underneath her underwear. One tip brushed lightly at her slit and she swallowed as she felt her trace the line of it, slowly, back and forth, again and again. "But maybe I could meet you?"

"At the bar?" She raised her brows. "Too public. Do you want tongues to wag?"

Ola swallowed. "Your room at the motel?"

Evy laughed, but she didn't say no. 

The next night, Evy pressed a lipstick kiss between Ola's thighs, underneath her skirt, behind closed doors. She'd left her underwear sitting neatly folded in her dresser drawer; she went back wearing Evy's, the worn old silk like her hands against her skin. When she put her own hand under them and caught her lip between her teeth, it was almost like she was still touching her, just like she had all night.

They met for weeks. Ola slipped back out of her room after she got home from work and they drove to Evy's room - the parking lot was dark enough no one could see them as they went inside. But Evy's money had started running low. She couldn't find work, not known like she was. She'd have to move on, and they both knew it, but Ola wasn't sure that she could let her. 

Mr. Brewster took the day's take from the bar with him at the end of every night, and Ola stood by and watched him do it. She stood by as the room of half-drunk regulars stared at her legs, or touched her arm when she brought them beers, or worse than that, and told her, _That Evy girl's bad news, Ola; just you stay away from her._ She wasn't totally sure how she'd never thrown their beers straight in their faces. She wasn't sure how she hadn't seen what to do all along.

Evy spent her last few bucks on cigarettes they shared when they slipped off their clothes. Ola used her last paycheck to settle the motel for another week, and then they went to bed. 

"I have an idea," she said. She knew where Mr. Brewster kept his gun.

Evy smiled. And Ola knew she'd have done anything to keep her smiling.


End file.
